


Whiskey On Your Breath

by pitypartyof1



Series: Liquored Up [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Body Shots, Daddy Kink, Drunk Sex, Liquor, M/M, Rimming, Whiskey - Freeform, dom!ashton, seriously, sub!Calum, there's copious amounts of whiskey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 14:58:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14595504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitypartyof1/pseuds/pitypartyof1
Summary: "Ashton likes the taste of whiskey, maybe a bit more than he should, always has. Likes it even more when he tastes it on Calum’s skin."





	Whiskey On Your Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, please leave me a comment. I love the feedback, love hearing your thoughts, and love discussing the story. :)

Ashton likes the taste of whiskey, maybe a bit more than he should, always has. Likes it even more when he tastes it on Calum’s skin. There’s something about the way it mixes with the salty tang of the sweat on his skin, reaching an entirely new level of intoxicating.

He needs, all the time, needs to have that taste on his tongue, seeping into his system until he’s so drunk on Calum and whiskey he can’t _breathe_.

Lining up another shot on the kitchen bar, he slams it, warmth sloshing in his belly. A pleasant buzz is overtaking him, swarming around him until he feels just the right kind of happy. There’s warmth in his cheeks and he can feel the giddiness in his blood.

Calum’s next to him, solid and radiating just as much heat, wide smile cracking over his face until his eyes crinkle. He’s laughing and Ashton’s not sure what at, but it doesn’t matter and it doesn’t stop him joining.

The taste of whiskey on his skin isn’t the only thing about him that’s addicting.

“We should go outside,” Calum suggests, “it’s probably cooled down by now.”

It takes nothing more than the twinkle in his eyes to convince Ashton to join him. In his heart, Ashton knows he’d follow Calum anywhere.

The neck of the bottle feels comfortable in his palm as he snags it on the way after the other boy, tripping and stumbling over the lip of the sliding glass door. He hasn’t bothered bringing the glasses they’d been using. They won’t need them now.

Stepping onto the patio, he realizes that Calum’s right, it has cooled down quite a bit from the earlier heat. There’s just the ghost of a chill in the air now. He eyes the younger boy. “Fire pit or nah?”

“Definitely fire pit,” he answers easily, grabbing for the lighter and turning on the gas. “I fuckin’ love this thing. ‘S nice on nights like this.”

Humming his agreement, the drummer slides warm fingers over Calum’s hip as the fire jumps to life before them, blazing and Calum straightens. “Lose the shirt, Cal Pal,” he murmurs in soft tones.

And maybe Calum’s just as gone as Ashton is because he doesn’t hesitate or question. The shirt is over his head and landing on the ground in a heap in a matter of seconds. He’s left with the deep brown of Calum’s gaze boring into his own dilated hazel, waiting patiently for instruction.

“Good boy,” he praises lowly. “On the table now,” he directs, gesturing to the sturdy, wooden, picnic-style table just to the other side of the fire pit.

The tone of his voice leaves no doubt that the dynamic has shifted now. They are no longer Ashton and Calum, they have transformed to dominant and submissive.

Ashton recognizes the shiver that ripples through Calum at the words and he understands the anticipation in his boy’s movements as he passes in front of the fire, skin glowing in the brief moment of flickering light. Knows his own eagerness is written on his face for Calum to see. He’s never hidden from his boy. It’s obvious how much he wants this.

Looking at Calum laid out before him, for him, is like a starving man surveying a feast and his eyes rake over him hungrily. The analogy is particularly apt, given that Ashton fully intends to taste him.

Sauntering over to join him, he swings the bottle lightly, shaking it in Calum’s line of vision. “You up for letting daddy take some body shots, pretty boy?”

“Yes, daddy.”

The sparkle in his eyes is back and Ashton can’t help reaching out to tweak a dusky nipple. “You love daddy’s mouth on you, don’t you? Don’t think I missed that little hip wiggle, baby.”

Calum giggles, shimmying his hips again. “You caught me. I can’t resist your mouth on me, Ashy.”

“Glad to hear it, baby boy, but this is your first warning. What’s my name?”

Ducking his head, chastised, Calum pouts. “Sorry, daddy.”

Unscrewing the cap on the whiskey without a response, he rests the bottle on the table near Calum’s shoulder. “Hold still now so I can pour.”

The amber liquid splashes slightly as he dribbles it into the hollow of Calum’s clavicle, little rivulets tracing down his chest. Dipping his head, he mouths over the small pool, savoring every drop before tracing over the rouge lines of whiskey crisscrossing his chest with his tongue. A low moan hisses out of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes over Calum’s skin, watching as goosebumps erupt in its wake, “I will _never_ get over the way that tastes.”

Calum whines softly, squirming already, and Ashton shushes him with a quick but intimate press of lips, mumbling against them sweetly.

“Quiet. You know daddy will reward you.”

One small whimper escapes before the younger boy falls silent. Ashton pours the next shot of whiskey into his bellybutton, watching the muscles of his abdomen contract with satisfaction before eagerly lapping at the alcohol.

It burns as it goes down and this time Calum’s the one who can’t hold back a moan. Ashton hums against his skin, tongue swiping out again solely to tease his boy. The growing bulge in Calum’s shorts is hard to miss.

Ashton would be lying if he said he didn’t have one to match. He reaches down to adjust himself, hissing slightly, before allowing his fingers to trace lightly over the outline of Calum under his shorts.

“Want daddy to touch you proper, pup?”

Calum bites his lip to stifle his noises, hips thrusting abortively up into Ashton’s teasing grip and the older boy tisks. With the gentle pressure of his thumb, he removes the abused lip from the abuse of Calum’s teeth.

“Second warning, baby boy, do you know what you did wrong?”

Panting warm breaths against his skin, Calum groans deeply. “Daddy likes my noises and wants to hear them,” he whines, hips still attempting to seek the friction of Ashton’s palm. “I am not to stifle them or hold back unless directed to do so.”

Ashton caresses his cheek lovingly. “Good memory. Let’s not make me scold you anymore tonight though, okay? I’m not in the mood to punish you,” he confesses in a falsely airy tone, “but I will if I must.”

Shifting minutely, Calum curls tentative fingers around the other boy’s, not sure if he’s allowed to touch or not. “I promise I’ll be good for you, daddy. I love you.” Giving a slight squeeze, he allows his grip to drop.

Tilting the bassist’s chin with a firm finger, Ashton smiles down. “I love you too, Cally. I think you deserve a drink, what do you think?”

Confused at the turn of conversation but unwilling to disappoint his daddy or turn down a drink, he nods eagerly. “Yes, please.”

Ashton’s grin gains a shadow of wickedness as he raises the bottle, tilting it against his own lips and draining a sizeable shot. Swiftly pressing his mouth to Calum’s, he taps the boy’s cheek, signaling him to open up. As the plush lips beneath him part, Ashton allows the liquor to flow until it passes smoothly between them.

Pulling back, he licks his lips, tasting the remnants of alcohol mixing with Calum’s chapstick. He can see the younger boy’s adam’s apple bobbing as he works to down the drink. “So fucking beautiful, Cal,” he praises.

Turning lazy, clouded eyes on him, Calum arches his back, chest pushing forward to draw Ashton’s attention. “More,” he groans, “want to feel your mouth back on me, daddy.”

“Turn over,” the drummer croaks, consonants and vowels heavy in his mouth. “On your belly for me, pup.”

Quick to comply, Calum rolls as gracefully as he can until his chest presses against the warm wood of the table beneath him. The scent of dust is powerful in the heavy LA air but even stronger is the heat of Ashton’s palm tracing down his spine, bumping knob by knob. He shivers.

“Next one goes here.”

Fingers dip into the dimples at the base of Calum’s spine and Ashton swirls them there. “Try not to jump, alright? Don’ wanna spill too much.”

Even with the warning, the first trickle has Calum twitching and Ashton rests a palm on his shoulder, soothing him with the pressure.

The dimples in the bassist’s lower back are hardly large enough to hold an entire shot. The liquid spreads, filling the valley of the younger boy’s spine, slipping over his hips to pool beneath him. Ashton doesn’t care in the slightest. His attention is glued to the dampness spreading along the band of Calum’s shorts.

“Daddy?” Calum questions after he’s been silent a beat too long without moving.

“Sorry love,” he rasps, “caught me staring. Know where I’m gonna put the next one already.”

The drag of Ashton’s mouth as he moves over the streams on Calum’s skin is ticklish. All of it is so overwhelming, he can’t help pushing his erection into the table under him, hoping for a little friction, anything to take the edge off before he implodes from the intensity.

Of course, a strong grip stops him, pulling him up and urging him onto his knees and carefully placing a folded up t-shirt beneath them as a cushion.

Ashton’s breath hitches as he removes Calum’s shorts. The younger boy’s ass is always a religious experience for him. The two perfectly muscled, rounded globes call to him and he can’t help reaching out for a firm grope. As he does, he reaches into his own shorts, stroking himself momentarily and growling.

“Been looking forward to this all night. You know how hard this ass makes me, pup? How much daddy loves to taste you?”

One hand parts those plush cheeks as the other tips a bottle.

Whiskey gushes out, flowing down his crack, over his small puckered hole, dripping down his perineum to his balls. Through it all, Ashton’s unyielding hold keeps him in place, gaze _devouring_ the boy in front of him.

When he deems him properly soaked, he finally lets up, pausing to admire the glistening display before chugging a shot from the bottle and dragging his tongue down to Calum’s hole.

He slurps messily, intent on not missing a single drop while destroying Calum. If he’d thought the taste was good before, it’s nothing to what he’s experiencing now.

On its own, he can get the hints of oak, apple and cinnamon in the whiskey. Combine that with the muskiness of Calum’s most intimate place? _Well_.

It’s easily the most sensuous flavour he’s had the pleasure of partaking in. His lust ratchets up a notch and any color left around his irises disappears.

Not for the first time, he’s more than a little grateful there’s a bit of space between him and his neighbors. Calum knows better than to muffle his noises, not that can when he reaches this point anyway. Calum getting fucked when he’s tipsy is always loud.

Swirling his tongue over Calum’s rim, he pours a little more whiskey, allowing it to splash into his face and hair, soaking his taste buds and penetrating Calum alongside him.

Mewling, the younger boy rocks, fucking himself shallowly on Ashton’s mouth. “Fuck, daddy, feels so weird, can feel it inside me. ‘S it taste good?”

“So good, baby boy,” Ashton pants into him. “Wish I could drink all my whiskey like this.”

The bassist giggles and Ashton plunges back into him greedily, licking and sucking with vigor, forcing Calum to choke off into a whine.

His daddy has a mouth so wicked, Calum can’t help feeling himself slip closer and closer to coming undone. His stamina is shit with alcohol in his system and his daddy eating his ass, Ashton knows this.

He grins as he feels his boy clenching around him, as if his body’s attempting to pull Ashton deeper. Nimble fingers slip down, rolling Calum’s balls, slippery and getting sticky with whiskey. In response to the touch, Calum’s hips jerk and he whines again, impossibly loud. Distance be damned, it’ll be enough to alert anyone still awake in the homes on either side of them to what’s going on.

“Please,” he keens softly, “please, daddy, Ash, _please_. I need it. Need t’come.”

And Ashton’s never been one to deny his boy. He can be a stern daddy, but he doesn’t like to punish because Calum doesn’t like to _be_ punished. He’s always gotten his pleasure from seeing it in Calum. He won’t ask his pup to hold off tonight, not when he can hear the desperation dripping from his pleas.

“Go ahead, love. Tell daddy what you need to get there. Anything,” the drummer promises.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Calum continues rutting down. “D-don’t stop. Just t-touch me, please.”

Ashton smirks heatedly. “I love how polite you get when your orgasm’s involved. Don’t wanna risk losing that, eh?”

Calum shakes his head and whimpers emphatically. “No, daddy, please!”

“Don’t worry, pup, I told you I’d get you there and I will. Gonna make you come so hard, Cal.”

He’s leaking copiously and Ashton gathers the globs of moisture at the tip, using them to ease the rough slide of his palm as he grips the bassist, stroking him to the rhythm of his tongue pushing in and out of his puffy hole.

Despite how impossible Ashton would have thought it, Calum’s cries only increase in volume with the new stimulation.

“ _Oh, oh, oh fuck, fuck,_ ” he chants, one hand reaching to join Ashton’s as he rests his weight on his forearm. Forcing Ashton to up the pace, he wraps their fingers together, pulling fast and tight, pausing to squeeze at the head on the upstroke. “Fuck, daddy, ‘m gonna-”

Cutting off with a low howl, he paints their hands and the table beneath them white.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Ashton whispers.

Calum collapses back into Ashton, panting. “Your turn, daddy.”

“Go get your tequila. I want you to cover me, pup.”

Grinning eagerly, Calum scampers to the kitchen, fully prepared to return the favour.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, please leave me a comment. I love the feedback, love hearing your thoughts, and love discussing the story. :)


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